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His hands move over my back and waist, drawing me against him. He kisses along my jaw and down my neck, finding the frantic pulse there. He murmurs something in Ukrainian, dark and guttural, perhaps a curse. Whatever it is, it only makes me want him more.

Reaching for him again, my knees falling open as I draw him closer. When his fingers find me, I'm already wet, my body’s way of telling him in every way, yes.

He kisses me hard, perhaps bruising my lips. I don’t care; I’m here for it all.

When he breaks our kiss, I groan in protest. His jaw clenches, and nostrils flare, fighting to pull me back, but opting to push his hand up my sweatshirt, well, his, and palm my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, making this heat, this desire, intensify.

“Lay back, fancy girl, and let me inside your gorgeous fucking body.”

I don’t think anything could ever feel better than being wanted and touched with such intense, focused attention.

Propped up on my elbows, pressing into his hand still kneading my breast and rolling my nipple, I watch as he pushes down his track pants and grabs himself.

“You have a seriously sexy body, and your … manhood is spectacular.”

“My manhood.” He tries to keep his obvious amusement at bay.

And as I’d rather not be poked fun at for my prudish choice of words, I spread my legs wider to draw his attention to where I want it most.

“Say cock, fancy.”

Oh, for the love of everything throbbing inside of me, I think before I force the word, “Cock,” out of my mouth.

“Where do you want my cock?” he asks, stroking himself a little faster now.

I consider my words, wanting to give him what he wants, but I’m not quite sure I can bring myself to say… that. I lift my hand and put it between my legs, rubbing circles around my clit, and moan.

Through clenched teeth, he growls, a sound so sexy I nearly give in and press down on my throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Say it,” he seethes, tightening his grip.

“My cunt.”

I swear he falters, without even taking a step, blue-grey eyes rolling slightly, as he groans. With his free hand, he’s gripping the collar of my shirt, well, his, and pulls me to the edge of the island, rubbing the fat head of his cock, not manhood, against my heat.

He grabs my ankle and puts it on his massive shoulder, and his lips curl before he thrusts fully into me. I lose my breath completely… again.

He moves slowly at first, giving me time to adjust to the intensity. He leans down and whispers words I do not know into my ear. They’re soft, but gravely, and I swear I don’t need to learn his native language to know that its praise he’s giving me, which is new to me, and god how I love it.

He groans against my neck, the sound sending a ripple through me. For one impossible moment, the world falls silent except for our breathing and the wind whining against the windows.

Physically, it’s the stretch, the shock, and the startling rightness of it all at once.

We move together, and I cling to him, nails pressing into his skin. I want to remember this, to let myself experience it without trying to protect myself from the reality that it will end.

He buries his face in my neck, his breath hot and uneven.

“You have no idea, Anna. No idea how long I've wanted⁠—"

I don't want to mess up what we have going with bedroom, or even kitchen island promises, so I kiss him. Softer this time, without the urgency that drove us together moments ago. He kisses me back just as gently as he slides in and out of me, giving me sweet, sweet pleasure.

Slow waves of my orgasm are followed by his cursing when he starts to come.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pulls out. “Tell me you’re on the pill.”

I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and shake my head. “I’m not going to have an easy time getting pregnant, and even if one of your swimmers got that far, my body won’t carry a baby.”

“Anna,” he says softer.